Nightfall
by LK2000
Summary: As Gondor falls into decay, Faramir and his weary Rangers must stop a group of Haradrim mercenaries before they can join forces with Mordor. They know this might be their kingdom's last chance.


**Nightfall**

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Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters below.

Beta: Atiaran

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After a long and cold night the sun rose. It was a pale morning.

Three eagles were flying southwards over the plains of Gondor, and a few clouds far in the East were stained in a bloody red.

"The beauty of this morning is deceiving," said Ildur, who was standing on the remains of an ancient castle wall near the forest, staring into the distance beside his captain.

"A darkness lies upon this land," replied Faramir. "Nonetheless, we will defend our homeland with all of our strength," he added with pride, while he grasped the hilt of his sword.

Then they stood silent for a while, two tall and slender silhouettes.

After some time Faramir turned to his men and commanded, "We will set off as soon as possible. I have heard news of the dealings of our enemy. A company of Haradrim seeks shelter in Mordor. The Dark Lord corrupted them. They're on his side, and they'll assail Gondor under his command. He bought many of their mercenaries, and now he concentrates his whole strength. If we don't stop a considerable amount of them, we will be highly outnumbered in the Great War.

"Collect your belongings. We have to move on!"

He walked past the troop then, heading for the swift, cold stream in the forest.

Imril, the youngest of the Rangers, followed him and shouted, "Where are you going?"

"I want to fill my bottle with water from the river!" answered Faramir in a brusque manner.

The other Rangers exchanged somber glances, knowing Faramir only filled his water bottle before especially difficult missions.

A tense mood settled over the camp as they sat by the fire and strung their bows.

When Faramir came back, Ildur asked, "How many Haradrim are on the way?"

"Perhaps five hundred soldiers," replied Faramir, who had just sat down by the fire.

"But we are just over fifty men!" replied Imril in terror.

"If we stand together and keep to the strategy, we can succeed," Faramir encouraged the group. Yet he thought in silence, "I wonder how many will survive this mission."

"You look quite concerned. Is something wrong?" whispered Ildur to Faramir as he took him aside.

"I'm just tired, that's it," answered Faramir.

However, this was only partly true. He was concerned, because he still hadn't had the time to make a proper plan for the attack.

His father Denethor, the Ruling Steward of Gondor, had never listened to him. He wanted Faramir's troop to stay in Ithilien, fighting against the enemies who crossed Gondor's border.

But in these days the Rangers were few, and the enemy grew mightier and stronger every time the sun rose. Time to prepare strategies for a great attack was a luxury the Rangers could not afford.

This problem had become even worse when Sauron formed an alliance with Harad, a southern realm. The men of Harad, the Haradrim, were fierce warriors, who fought with both bow and spear, and sometimes with bent swords. Sauron wanted to summon the allies to Mordor, because he wished to start an attack such as had never been seen before in Middle-Earth.

"Is everyone ready for departure? We have to cover six leagues ere the sun sets!" shouted Faramir while securing his yew bow on his back.

Glancing at Ildur, Faramir saw that his second-in-command was checking to make sure the troops all had their facemasks on. He smiled at his friend, thinking how glad he was for Ildur's help in leading the men.

It was nearly noon when they were finally able to set out. Therefore the troop had to make haste. They always traveled in small groups, because this lessened the risk of being seen.

This time Faramir planned to ambush the men of Harad, who were rushing to Mordor to help in the Great War.

Faramir had sent out scouts, so he knew when they would pass the swampland in the eastern part of Ithilien.

"Hurry up, men!" commanded Faramir in a harsh tone.

His men didn't take offense, for they knew how great his burden was. He was the only chance Gondor had.

Faramir was very worried, because he knew that this adventure could be their last one. The Haradrim outnumbered them ten to one. However, Faramir's men had one advantage. The Haradrim came from the desert. They had never seen a swamp in their life and were unaccustomed to traveling in soft and muddy terrain.

Faramir wanted to attack the moment they reached the swampland. Therefore his men had to be there on time.

The whole day the company strode on. First they had to find their way through a dense oak forest, under a thick roof of leaves and branches. In the afternoon the landscape changed, the trees dwindled both in number and height. The ground began to get muddy, and they began to notice a rotten smell.

"We're almost there," whispered Faramir to Ildur, who was at his side.

The concerned expression on Faramir's face vanished slowly. Forth came an empty, emotionless look in his eyes.

Just as they were about to cross a large glade, overgrown with fern and blackberry bushes, suddenly three of Faramir's scouts appeared in front of them.

"My lord, the Haradrim decided to go around the swamp. They are going to pass this spot we're standing on right now. They will cross our path at this exact spot in about one quarter hour. So we're just on time!" announced the tallest of the three breathlessly.

"Everyone! Get ready! Let them pass a few feet beyond us, then we'll shoot them down, as many as possible. Don't let them flee!" instructed Ildur the others in a low and deep voice. Faramir said nothing, trying to concentrate on the battle to come.

The troops spread out, and the men hid themselves behind the thicket in pairs. Then the waiting began. The atmosphere was extremely tense, and nobody dared to make the slightest noise. They simply waited in their hiding places with bent bows and loosened swords.

Every once in a while a squirrel broke the silence when it ran over the ground. The shadows were growing longer. It was late in the afternoon.

"That's the calm before the storm," whispered Ildur to his captain. Faramir just nodded.

Then the Rangers could hear the Haradrim approaching.

They were chanting a rhythmic marching song in a strange tongue. The warriors were marching in organized rows. There was a small group of unarmed men in front of them. They were carrying deep red flags with black serpents on them. The warriors came behind.

Everyone had a black bow on the back and a spear in one hand. The expression on their faces was very weary, they had to have been marching for ages. At last came the leader of the troop, a giant man in red armour. He was armed with a heavy mace. Four men carried him in a golden palanquin. This seemed very absurd to the men of Gondor. They couldn't imagine a reason to carry their captain in a noble palanquin to war.

"Are you ready?" whispered Ildur to Faramir.

"Let it begin," answered Faramir, and he took a deep breath.

Faramir released his first arrow into the middle of the crowd. The others followed.

Arrows whistled through the air, and chaos broke loose.

The Haradrim noticed the ambush too late. Many of their warriors were killed in the first seconds of the skirmish. But they were still many men more than the Rangers, and they started to shoot back.

The men of Harad drew together, holding broad shields on the outside of the crowd to protect the archers, who shot red feathered arrows with a poisoned tip.

Although the Haradrim had not seen the Rangers, their archers shot at the places the Rangers' arrows had come from. Most of Faramir's men moved to flank the Haradrim, and continued the bow fight.

"Follow me!" yelled Faramir to the Rangers nearby.

Together they sneaked in front of the Haradrim. At his side was Ildur. Although cover was scarcer here, the Haradrim didn't expect any enemies to appear in front of them, and they weren't holding any shields on this side.

"Aim for the commander of the troop!" shouted Faramir through the noise.

The other Rangers, who were still in flanking positions, wondered where their captain had gone, but they knew it when the man in the palanquin fell to the ground.

Unfortunately, the enemies noticed Faramir and his companions at the same time. They started to shoot back almost instantly. Suddenly, the Rangers noticed several of the Haradrim putting up their bows and drawing swords.

"They know they haven't got a chance in a bow fight," he thought.

A captain of the Haradrim shouted hectic and harsh commands to the soldiers in their queer language. Although Faramir couldn't understand the words, he knew the man was ordering an attack on himself and his companions. Faramir realized that the captain had known that they were few and separated from the others.

The Rangers at his side were anxious, because there were many men running towards them with their grim faces and rusty blades. The others were cut off so they couldn't help.

Faramir knew that he had to fight for his life. Many thoughts rushed through his mind. He raised his sword and tried to concentrate himself. A strange energy rose inside him, and he felt focused and calm. The Rangers were getting ready, when Faramir charged the opponents.

The captain opened the battle with a mighty swing, slaying the first attacker. But there were countless more waiting, ready to take revenge for their slain friends. The Rangers stayed close together and fought valiantly.

Although the Haradrim were no match for the Rangers, Faramir and the others were forced back, and soon they were near their starting point again. Half a dozen of the evil soldiers managed to sneak to the side of the Rangers, and hid themselves behind the thicket.

Faramir's troop was thrown back even further when a small company of archers started to shoot consistently.

But the Rangers weren't aware of the cliff behind them, and they were slowly moving toward the edge. There were only a few feet left between them and the cliff, when a group of Haradrim, who were still hiding behind a tall fern, issued forth and attacked the Rangers.

While Faramir leaped forwards to help his companions in front of him, Ildur retreated behind Faramir to protect his friend's back.

Despite the fact that this group of Haradrim was armed only with short daggers to support concealment, the Rangers had not expected them. Faramir and his men might have been killed if not for the tangle of blackberry vines the Haradrim had to cross.

The vines slowed the Haradrim enough to cost them their lives.

"That was close," said Ildur, wiping some dirt from the battle off his forehead, after he killed the last one.

"Seems like there aren't many foes left, our companions did great work while we were away," noticed Faramir. He was staring down the battlefield, the frown on his face slowly vanishing to be replaced with a relieved smile. The sun was setting on the horizon, throwing the last light over Gondor.

At this very moment a Haradrim, who was still hiding behind the thicket, leaped forth and landed directly in front of Faramir. He was startled because he didn't expect any more enemies, and he had just sheathed his sword.

Ildur was still behind him, just a few feet away from the cliff.

Faramir dodged as the short man swung his scimitar, but he stumbled backwards.

One of the Rangers drew his bow and shot a deadly arrow at the Haradrim's chest.

As Faramir toppled over, he bumped into Ildur. Unfortunately, there was a root sticking out of the ground. Ildur's foot got entangled in it, and he fell on his back. He tried to stand up again, but he slipped on the wet moss on the ground. Ildur lost his balance and fell over the cliff.

After a few seconds the rangers heard a dull sound. Ildur's body smote against a rock.

Faramir didn't notice anything, having barely escaped with his own life. He stood up and shook the dirt off his clothes. He turned his head and looked for Ildur.

"Where has he gone?" Faramir asked the others. "Hasn't he had enough battle today?" he added laughing.

No one replied. They just stared in devastation at the edge of the cliff.

"What happened?" asked Faramir.

Finally Imril explained hesitantly, "Well… My lord, Ildur fell off the cliff. You bumped into him when you stumbled. I'm sorry."

Faramir stood still for a while, unable to react. Then he hid his face in the palms of his hands.

"Give him a moment to grieve," whispered Imril to the others. Then they went away and let Faramir alone.

After a while Faramir slowly went to the edge of the cliff. There was a swift stream at the bottom. Ildur's dead body must have fallen into it.

"That means he will be carried gently to the sea," thought Faramir, while a bitter tear fell down into the river.

"Now you are in a better place," Faramir tried to convince himself. "Far away from war and pain. I'm so sorry. I'll also join you sooner or later. Farewell, my friend, farewell."

Then he went back to the others. Now that the Haradrim were defeated, the Rangers gathered in the middle of the battlefield.

"I have to tell you something," Faramir said to the others. "I..., I... ." He couldn't bring a word out of his mouth.

"We understand," said one of the rangers.

"Let's forsake this place and seek shelter near the river," propose Baranor, who was the oldest of the Rangers. He usually took the lead if Faramir and Ildur weren't there.

Imril whispered in his ear that it would be better to go somewhere else because of the death of Ildur.

Baranor shrugged his shoulders, and then he ordered that they return to their base in the hills.

The group separated again into pairs, but Faramir went alone. He was recalling everything that had happened near the cliff. A grueling feeling of guilt dominated his thoughts, and he cajoled himself into thinking that the death of Ildur had been his fault. Beregond had been his best friend since childhood. Faramir wasn't able to fully understand what had happened yet. He just felt empty and forsaken.

Upon arriving at their base in the hills, the Rangers were welcomed by a few others who guarded the base.

Five men came out of the cave and asked if they had won the battle.

"We may have won the battle, but the Great War still has to come," answered Baranor, who led the company that evening.

Slowly the night came over Ithilien. The mighty oaks around them darkened. Only Faramir and Imril stayed outside, leaning against a tree.

"How will this war end?" asked Imril.

Faramir, who was staring into the darkness, replied, "We shall see. Tomorrow is a new day. We shall see.


End file.
